Tainted
by AnonymouslyStupid
Summary: Loki's life is revealed to the Avengers in the most unexpected way: via a Memory Stone. The agents accidentally come into contact with it and fall into a long coma. When they awake, they are never the same. Loki's past; his rape, his hatred, his grief, his heritage are entirely revealed and the Avengers find themselves feeling more for the God of Chaos than they should. NON-CON BxB
1. Beginning

"It all started with, ironically, the loss of my virginity, along with it my innocent view of the Nine Realms."

Unsure glances spread around the room, implanting itself on various faces with varying degrees.

"I was younger, a hundred and six, barely of mature mind."

"How old is that in human years?" Stark asked, nose wrinkling.

Creased brows, closely followed by, "Fourteen- no, fifteen?"

Clint's eyes widened mildly. "Well, whatcha do? Go around rutting trees with your crazy ass hormones?"

A soft chuckle. "No, not at all. I was the one being, as quoted, 'rut' into."

Speechlessness filled the air, louder than he could stand. He preferred when he did not look at him with such evident looks of shock. But, he continued nonetheless. "He was an ambassador of Vanaheim, a close friend of my adoptive mother Frigga, since she had been birthed there. Frigga is of Vanir blood, and had come to live in Asgard after the war- well, that is rather redundant to this story."

"He visited often for diplomatic matters, staying and residing within the palace for long periods of time. Frigga and him were close; close that I had reason to suspect something, but being the age I was then it mattered nothing to me. It wasn't until he took interest in me that I was involved."

_The young lad under the duvet covers jolted awake, eyes wide with a panic of a child. The figure was in his room once again, the black shadow a shade darker than the night. He called out hesitantly, voice slightly trembling with apprehension,_

_"Who's there?"_

_The figure slowly strolled up to him, the pale moonlight striking the man's features, casting long shadows upon the floor. Loki flinched. It was him._

_He hurriedly got to his feet, hastily flinging the duvet aside and dropped to his knees with his slender arm placed across his chest. The figure observed the little boy with amusement; he was in his royal bedclothes, the silken material smooth against flawless, milk-washed skin, the glittering depths of his eyes standing out magnificently in the dark, the coal-black hair let down; relaxed shoulder-length locks that accentuated his already astounding beauty._

_"Greetings, my Lord."_ _His young voice was clear, gentle and almost with a soft edge to it. Beautiful._

_"You may rise, young princeling."_

_Loki stood, confusion slowly slipping into his previously well-schooled features._ _"What are you doing in my bed chambers, Lord Alfiel? Has something happened?"_

"He broke through your wards?" Natasha asked, cutting in, expression cleverly neutral. Loki nodded in response. "Without much effort, I might add. I was considerably weaker then. Well, as I was saying..."

_"Nothing of importance, Prince Loki. I came to see you." Loki's young heart pulsated with increasing intensity, almost bursting out of his chest. The adrenaline, accompanied by the shock and the rising fear filled his being, his mind blank. "What is the matter then, Lord Alfiel?"_ _Loki knew. He knew that the Lord had been 'visiting' him for several nights over the past few months now, but he was not sure _why_.The Lord moved forward, slowly pushing Loki back down on the bed and moved along with the motion, face getting closer and closer to Loki's as he breathed, "Entertainment me, little Swallow of Black."_

_"Wha-"_

_He crushed his mouth against Loki's, and with a flick of his fingers, summoned bands of steel, binding Loki's wrists to his bedpost. Loki yelped as he was steadily overwhelmed by the shock and coursing fear, his legs kicking the air haplessly. The Lord released his trembling lips, trailing his tongue along the side of Loki's pale, enticing neck._

_"Lord Alfiel! Please let go of- Mmh!"_ _He was silenced with yet another easily summoned spell. The Vanir ripped Loki's clothes, shredding the thin silk as easily as a knife through butter. His lustful hands roamed beneath, carressing, possessing milky white virgin skin. He reached up towards the side of Loki's face, lips sucking on the shell of his ear and whispered, "Do be quiet, little one, and the ordeal shall be over by dawn."_

_Loki's eyes prickled with tears as he was gripped with confusion and fear, for he did not know what the Lord had intended for him. He squirmed under the rough touches, and suddenly felt something against his behind._ _"Mmmh-!" A desperate cry. Was the Lord's _finger_ in him? He was extremely appalled and afraid, as the whispers softened to a "Relax, little Swallow. It will only hurt momentarily."_

_Loki had never heard a bigger lie._

_The fingers, dripping with the Lord's saliva, prodded and twisted his insides, stretching tender skin painfully. A muffled scream was let out, and Loki begged for him to stop, but he could not voice out the words._ _"You're too tense, fair Princeling. I won't be able to fit." His voice was roughed by the mindless lust, breathless and husky in deep tones. Loki wanted to cry out, "What do you mean?! Please stop please please please-" but his mouth remained close, bounded by the spell._

_"Ohh, Loki. I am utterly impatient. I shall wait no longer."_

_Loki could evidently feel the hardness of the Lord's arousal against his thigh and suddenly his flustered, quick-witted mind clicked the puzzle pieces into place, despite being a youngling that had never been exposed to any sorts of sexual acts before. It was as he had read in books, he realized with screaming nerves of panic and hurt, where the maiden is brutally and forcefully assaulted and the male attains sexual pleasure through bodily means._ _He realized the Lord's intentions: why the fingers were 'loosening up' his certain orifice, and began desperately struggling more than before, earning a snarl from the Vanir._

_"Struggle again, young Prince, and I shall slit your pretty little throat and continue with my actions afterwards."_

_Loki looked at the man with dawning horror assaulting his gut. He would not... would he?_ _Loki ceased the struggles. He tried to keep his panic and voice down, fearing he would upset his, at this rate, possible would-be murderer. The Vanir was significantly pleased as he pulled his fingers (all three of them) out of Loki with disgusting slurping sounds. The young boy laid on the bed, the dark coal hair fanned out beautifully, his trembling frame slender and showing signs of developing lean muscles but with a mixture of a child's young physique._ _The brilliant green eyes peered into his with such delicious fear, his lust increasing by bounds due to the helplessness and submissive behaviour the princeling was showing him._

_"I will enter you now." He said aloud, dark, and lust-filled._ _Loki wanted to stop and do _something_, but he was at his wit's end. In the end, he could only tremble in response. The Lord stroked the side of the pallid face with the electrifying green eyes, admiring the beauty laid before him, before roughly grabbing the sides of the boy and abruptly entered him._

_Loki screamed and writhed in agony as he immediately tried to back away, but the clasps his wrists were in and the Vanir's death grip on his flesh held him; the fingernails welling blood from skin-deep wounds. Loki barely felt the pain of his fingernails because of the mad pounding of Vanir's organ, ripping and shredding his insides as the Lord had done so easily to his bedclothes._

_"Ah! Ah, Loki you're so tight! Ah, yes, yes!"_

_Loki's fists clenched in rising fury, legs forcefully spread extremely wide apart to allow the Lord more leverage in his thrusts. The organ went all the way in and out again and again, the Vanir's bunched thighs slapping hard against his own with each terrible thrust. He was sobbing freely now, uncontrollable tears streaming down his face, trembling with hurthurthurtpainstop-_

_Loki distantly felt some kind of hot liquid running down his behind -was it blood?- as he screamed, albeit muffled ones, himself hoarse. He was starting to see blackness enter his swirling, blurred vision when suddenly he felt hot, sticky liquid shoot straight and deep in his rectal orifice, and the Vanir's swelled organ had reduced in size. The pain was more unbearable now with the Vanir's seed going over open, bleeding wounds. He could feel the mixture of liquids -blood and seed alike- running along his sweat-coated skin, tainting and dirty._

_The Vanir's breaths slowed down significantly over time, his hands still by Loki's sides, fingernails dug deep into reddened skin. Loki breathed hard too, whimpering and wanting to curl up on the bed to weep, but was unable to due to the clasps._

_The Vanir regained his smirk, and-_

"And he said, 'If you tell anyone, you will be dead. I will slay you in the night while you sleep after I slowly do this to you. Over.. and over... again.' "

His listeners were completely quiet now, but Steve spoke up, his voice gentle and slightly quivering, "You believed him?"

Loki looked at him, gaze nonchalant, as if he had just told the Avengers about grocery shopping and not the brutual loss of his virginity. "You must forgive me. See, I was younger then and much gullible. I believed him completely and have never told a single soul, until.. that is... now, due to the circumstances. I believe Thor had realized Alfiel's vile act towards me over the years, but, truthfully, I have never been interested enough to check if he really did know of it."

"Thor knew of your rape?!"

Loki glared in Steve's direction, tone prickly, "Rape is allowed weakness, Captain. It is merely my first experience of brutality that influenced me, nothing more. Do not confuse my youth for weakness in being." Loki practically hissed, filling the room with overbearing silence. "Anymore of your redundant questions before you fulfil your part of the bargain, then happily whisk me off to Asgard for my punishment?"

Tony looked up at this and suddenly asked, "Where is he now?"

Loki grimaced at this, "Alive and well in Vanaheim. Being the ambassador allows him to wield massive power and influence, though I believe I can thoroughly capable of slaying him should I ever cross his path. And then again, I probably would not."

"Why not?" Bruce's voiced out the question from everyone's minds, voice swift and loud. Loki waved his hand in a careless gesture, "Diplomatic issues. Asgard's downfall won't be worth it."

Silence reigned.

"Are we quite done here? I suppose now you would indulge me in your Midgardian knowledge regarding technology? This was a promised trade of information. I believe I should take my share now?"

"Actually, Steve just casually asked the initial question. We haven't reached the main ones yet," Banner said quietly, in a form of explanation. Loki sighed, eyes closing. The Avengers team were gathered in a wide interrogation room with their bound prisoner. Due to his unwillingness to 'spill the beans', they had promised a trade-off: valuable information of human technology and workings in exchange of Loki answering their questions. The humans would not gain any disadvantage; it was not as if Loki could use the information while he was forever imprisoned on Asgard. Information from Loki the God of Chaos himself though, seemed extremely advantageous.

On Loki's side, he had agreed and reluctantly held them to their word. Midguard's advancements had wondered him so; to the extent that he was willing for the trade-off, and even to the point of enthusiastically anticipating the day of the interrogation. Steve had unexpectedly start the ball rolling with a question that seemed to surprise everyone: "How did you turn out this way?" The Captain had sad, downcast eyes, and now that Tony was _really_ thinking about it, he felt that perhaps it had been a rhetorical question. However, Loki had taken it nonetheless and responded to the question.

"Before the lot of you bombard me with your mindless questions, at least tell me, Man of Iron, how that device of yours works."

Tony glanced to the 'device'. "You mean the polygraph? Name's Tony Stark by the way. And the suit really isn't made of Iron, oh god why doesn't anyone get that-" Banner cleared his throat, interrupting, "Lie detection commonly involves this polygraph device. It detects autonomic reactions and these changes in body functions are not easily controlled by the conscious mind, so it allows us to, so-called, know when you lie."

"It is terribly unreliable, however. But Legolas over there thought we should give it a try." Stark summarised with a smirk.

Clint huffed in response. "I don't know about Gods, and while you are pretty batshit crazy and all "Bow my minions!", you seem human-like enough." Loki calmly raised a brow. "And that would mean?"

"Well," Barton shrugged, "that would mean you probably possess the short-term stress response which can be from lying or of significance to the subject we are talking about. The problem is, however, that the response is also associated with mental effort and emotional state; so they can be influenced by fear, anger, and surprise, for example. Well, basically it's not very accurate."

"Ahh, I see. Pity, then, for it would prove so much more interesting should it work-"

Suddenly, the door barged (boomed) open. Everybody almost flinched, but being used to such situations they swivelled their heads to the door instead, assessing the enem-

Oh, Thor.

"Brother! What is the meaning of this!" The Thunder God boomed, voice rich with fury mixed in worry. He adorned the full Asgardian suit, his hands holding a small dull rock that had a thin cut of red encarved on it. It looked ordinary enough, except for the fact that it was pulsing with some kind of mysterious energy, glowing red hot. Upon seeing the stone Loki's eyes flashed. "Thor, what have YOU done! How DARE you place your rough, careless hands onto my things!" He seethed, hands reaching forward to grasp the stone but was held back by the Avengers.

Thor's eyes were turning into sad, slightly hurt ones as he asked, "Loki, is this stone?" Everyone looked at Loki expectantly for his reaction. Loki, in turn, rolled his eyes. "No, Brother. It is a leaf."

Thor continued without minding the harsh-tipped response, "It is a memory stone, is it not?" Loki looked panicked for a moment before he said, "I do not know until I have seen the runes carved upon it. Where did you find it?"

"Heimdall gave it to me when-"

"FOOL!" Loki screeched, head pounding with hurt, "HE PROMISED."

"What is it, Brother?" Thor asked, panicking. Loki looked desperate as he reached out for the stone. "Please, give it to me Brother. It is \\mine/." Clint, seeing Loki's wild panic, playfully reached out to grab the stone, just so he could infuriate the God further.

"Haha! Now _I_ got it. I-"

"Don't touch it!" Loki shouted in warning, but it was too late. Barton suddenly collapsed to the floor in a useless heap, choking and gasping for air. He then starting shouting and groaning in pain. "What did you do to him Loki!" Romanoff ran to his side and held him up, but in that spilt second she tumbled to the floor as well, gasping for air.

"Fuck! Banner, Steve, don't you guys lay a single finger on them! You become like that as well. Loki, what the hell did you do?!" Stark asked, angered. Loki sat quietly in his chair. "It will pass. They are not in any danger."

"What the fuck do you mean-"

Thor held Stark back, a serious look on his face. Tony, Steve and Banner helplessly stared at the duo thrashing and writhing on the floor, rooted to the spot. "My Brother is right. I know of these stones, they do not experience real pain, Man of Iron. It is merely in their heads." Steve looked up, and asked, voice laced with worry, "When will the imaginary pain-inducing drug wear off?"

Loki spoke up this time, "Soon enough, when their bodies grow weary of the stress the mind is putting on them and they fade into unconsciousness. When they awake, they will be fine."

"What kind of dumbshit stone is this-" Tony spluttered, utterly dumbfounded by the scene before him. Thor glanced to the suddenly quiet Loki, to the Man of Iron and the other team mates, before speaking. "This is no ordinary pain they are going through. The stone is not accursed, it has merely been filled."

"With the acclaimed ditzy MAGICK that God over there has? Dirty scumba-"

Steve, usually the slowest of the group, suddenly got it then. Horror gripped him. "Tony. It's not magic."

"Well what is it then?"

The Thunder God looked at Loki, whose eyes were looking away, as he said, "They're experiencing Loki's memories, the ones he input into the memory stone."

The three Avengers looked at Loki, anger and mostly confusion flitting through their faces. "What?! What kind?"

Loki's eyes remained on the floor. "All kinds. Everything I have ever experienced till this day."

"Then why are they thrashing like that on the floor?" Bruce calmly asked, inhaling deep breaths.

"It's simply because they're experiencing what Loki has experienced. His memories consist of such pain, and therefore the archer and Lady Romanoff are both experiencing equal amounts of pain. It will pass soon enough, Man of Iron. When the Lady touched the young archer, she entered his current state of mind, and was engulfed by the memories as well. She would probably have missed out the first parts of Loki's lifetime." Thor spoke quickly, still holding Tony back, and continued, "Loki's experiences are contained within, but it allows the user to refresh one's memories within the span of a few hours. The Gods of Old, having lived long lives, use this often to remind themselves who they were. But such a tradition has long passed. I believe Brother was merely interested in the magic involved and thus tried it out as well."

"A few hours..." Steve muttered to himself, eyes on the two agents now wheezing on the floor, unwilling tears streaking down their faces.

"I am young. It will barely take an hour. Though I doubt they will last throughout." Loki voiced out from his seat.

"When will they-"

As if on cue, the agents on the floor passed out, bodies limp and limbs splaying awkwardly, eyes closed and forehead covered with a sheen of sweat.

"Now."

-•-

-•-


	2. Confusion

Loki was back in his cell, fists clasped together nervously. The agents would see, the agents would know, and they would report what they learnt of him to the SHIELD headquarters. He was such a fool to have trusted in Heimdall, thinking It would be safe in his hands. Why had he given it to Thor? Fools, both of them.

Loki ran sleek fingers through his unruly hair, frustration building up inside him. Humans had not touched the Memory Stone before. He knew not what they would see. Would they see _everything_? He shivered in the darkness. The vulnerability, the weakness he fought so hard to hide: the fear, the want, the tears he wept, the _brushing and scrubbing and scrubbing on already raw reddened skin to wipe out the permanent dirt, the tainted skin_-

He closed his eyes.

-•-

Steve was looking over the agents, fear for them clawing at his heart. His unduly worries were not unsound; what if they never woke up? What if they woke up different? Scarred; the memories that were not theirs ruining their own sanity, merging identities and hurting them in the process? Numerous what ifs were scattered throughout his head as he bent over the duo, being careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. He did not want to turn out like that and burden the two other terribly stressed Avengers; they were already working doubly hard trying to analyse the stone and its possible adverse effects on humankind. With Steve unable to help, he could only take care of his mentally wounded team mates, and was set on informing the scientific duo upon their awakening.

The agents were still now, but the expression on their faces varied over time, from disapproving frowns to fear to anger. Steve was completely blocked out, even when he tried waking them, touching them with a damp cloth instead of his bare hands, shaking their shoulders with no results. They had been in this comatose state for two days now, and Steve was afraid that his team mates would never again regain consciousness.

He looked at the duo on the two separate beds for a while longer and sighed. Exhausted with staying up and tending to the agents, he leant back on the chair he was sitting on in between both beds and succumbed to a deep slumber.

-•-

_The man was approaching again, the shadow stretching out tendrils of mist towards her suddenly smaller form of body. She could not move, and felt a fear gripping her, almost as if holding her down in that spot. The man had been visiting for many nights in a row, and for what she knew not. She was afraid, terrified, for she had heard snippets of conversation between her mother and the man the day before._

_The Day Before:_

_"..just a little boy... wouldn't get out of hand..."_

_"...you cannot do this..."_

_"...he is not yours to claim, Frigga, it matters not..." A slithering hissed whisper._

_"... his very blood is already tainted blue... deserves it..."_

_She had heard them talking mysteriously, but because she always concentrating on an intricate spell on staying blended into the background where she stood, it was difficult to hear what they were saying._

_She hurriedly returned to her room and released the exhaustive spell, tumbling to the bed, chest heaving with much effort. After a while she glanced up and caught her reflection in the mirror: a dark young haired boy with mystifying green eyes stared back at her, eyes wide with curiosity. It was herself. She glanced back up the ceiling, reflecting on how tired and unpresentable she had looked. It was most displeasing. What was she to do when she was called to dine with Father, Mother and Thor later? She would be hated even more than she already was; Father had resented her terrible skill with the sword. Thor was excellent with the huge, heavy blades, but Father did not realize Loki, herself, worked better with daggers and light objects. Her aim was perfectly crafted and practiced to fine accuracy, but it was ignored. She had begged to allow Father to try an archer's role, but Odin put her down, the words cutting deep into her heart, "Useless with the sword, but good with daggers and arrows? Hah, a great warrior that must be." The room of guests had followed with bellowing laughter. And Loki, she understood, real cutting_ hurt_ and humiliation, for one of the very first times. Thor had been laughing along too, heartily grabbing onto the outstanding Warriors Three as he did. Her eyes teared up, her heart throbbing with pain. Stop it... Stop it.. Stop, please..._

Natasha was frowning on the bed, teeth clenched but eyes still closed. She thrashed a little, tears of humiliation leaking from the sides of her eyes down onto the white bed sheet. Nonononono! Stop laughing!

_Now: The day before had been utterly humiliating to her broken pride, but Loki took it in stride: She would do better! She would train with the sword!_

_However, now, the man was back again, eyes never leaving hers, engulfing her being with the scalding ones. Why had he come? The man stepped out into the moonlight. Her face drained. Lord Afiel, the Vanaheim ambassador..._

Barton fared worse, writhing on the bed with agony, groaning at intervals.

_He was being pounded into and it was tearing him inside out, but he remained as silent as he could, biting onto the silken bed sheets to muffle the screams. After that night, Lord Afiel had come back numerous times over the weeks, and further proceeded into the rough taking of his body, satisfying his never ending lust and injecting his bodily fluids into him again and again. Each time, the duration of his stay grew longer._

_Loki, him, tried really hard to doubly back up his wards, training and growing stronger in his magic capabilities in order to ward off the coming of the Lord, but it was to no avail. The Vanir just readily entered every time, taking what he wanted from the hapless princeling._

_He, Loki Odinsson, grew quieter and less mischievous in his behaviour over time. The maidens and servants alike were glad for the Lord Afiel's good influence on the naughty little boy, but Loki was terrified. Everyday, he scrubbed himself hard, the fragile reddened skin almost breaking, as he landed the brush strokes hard onto his skin and everywhere the Vanir touched. The small brush never did help much of the dirt that was on his being. He would spend hours in the bath, trying to scrape his dirtiness away, but each time he would fail and blankly step out of the bath, mind numb. Each time someone looked at him, he would involuntarily flinch, and whenever someone tried to touch him, he would back away, green eyes wide with fear._

_Such was his life and he would not tell a soul due to the fear overwhelming him, clutching his faint heart with crushing intensity._

_One night, he finally broke down, sobbing in the bath, his nose running, his voice pained and so utterly young and weak. His legs were held close to his body with his arms wrapped around his knees. He shuddered occasionally, the violent motion wracking his frame, as the weak, weak, weak tears streamed down, merging with the clear bath water, contrasting to his utterly dirty, tainted, /stained person. He huddled closer to the corner of the tub, hot skin contrasting with the emanating chill of the royal bath. "Royal", indeed. "Princeling"; he did not deserve the title for being such a disgusting, stained heap of useless. He rocked his body back and forth, the sobs uncontrollable and spewing forth the pent up feelings of hate and disgust towards himself._

_And that was when he learnt that weakness was such a hard burden to bear._

-•-

The clinking of keys caused him to look up to the door of his cell. Steve stood, 'exhausted' written all over his face. Loki stared at the scene quietly, as the Captain entered his cell. He did not lock the door behind him, nor say a thing as he stood there looking at Loki. The God of Chaos, being muzzled, could not speak, and the both of them stood with some distance apart, staring intently at the other. Steve broke the silence.

"Loki. Tony and Bruce doesn't know that I'm doing this, but I think I need to know. What is going on? Natasha and Clint have been in terrible conditions for days while you told us that they would wake within hours."

Loki stared, wanting to respond, but he was still muzzled. He stared knowingly at the Captain, before he finally got it.

"Oh right, muzzle. Er, I don't know how to unlock that. I just came straight down without thinking..." They stared in awkward silence. "Erm, could you write? English, I mean."

Loki shook his head. Steve sighed. "Then maybe you can answer yes/no questions?"

Loki frowned, before nodding his head. Steve inhaled and exhaled. "Right. Okay. I'm going to sound stupid talking to myself here, but here goes. Erm, right, first thing: are they going to wake up?"

Loki nodded.

"Okay, great. Are they going to wake up fine?"

Loki hesitated for a long time. A panicked feeling was slowly engulfing Steve with that response. "You.. what's going to happen to them?"

Loki pointed at his muzzle and Steve got the message: that is not a yes/no question and I cannot answer.

"Okay, will they be fine?"

Loki paused then shrugged, his eyes blank: I don't know.

"Why are you unsure?"

Loki huffed and pointed to the infuriating muzzle. Steve interpreted the action with something that went along the lines of: I don't know if you have a pair of working eyes Captain, because _see_, I can't talk.

"Okay. Is it going to get worse?"

Loki rolled his eyes, then did a writing motion with his hands: Paper and writing materials, _now_. Steve rushed out, leaving the door _open_, the _fool_, but Loki did not think of escape. He was so tired, he did not even think of it. Moreover, with his magic bounded, he could barely do as much as he wanted. Steve rushed back with a notebook and pen, clicking the end of the thin blue pen and handing it to Loki. Loki took the materials in his hands and began drawing.

He drew a human brain, and Steve was appalled at his intricate and artistic skills; the God was terribly good at drawing. He did not make a mistake, with it being a pen, and proceeded labelling several parts of the brain with weird writings Steve could not recognise; Asgardian no doubt. He ultimately passed the notebook to Steve. It had took him no more than a mere five minutes. He pointed at a certain part of the picture, expecting Steve to understand, but the Captain was extremely confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't major in Biology... I don't.. I don't understand this stuff."

Loki looked a little flustered, before he pointed to Steve's own head, then to his own, his intelligent eyes never leaving the bewildered Captain's. He grabbed the notebook back, and wrote in elegant slanted handwriting, 'Our physiques are different'.

Steve's eyes widened, gaping at Loki. "You can write English!"

Loki exhaled, raising his hand, putting his thumb and forefinger closer together and holding it there with a small space in between; a gesture that said: A little. Steve was impressed, but he kept quiet.

And the day of explanations went on with both parties struggling: one trying to comprehend, the other trying to explain with limited resources.

-•-

"Tony, someone breached Loki's cell." Bruce called from the other side of the table as he swiped the massive amounts of digital analysis with his fingers, allowing him to see the billionaire on the other side. However, Tony was already leaning back on his seat and viewing the live camera footage. He looked to Banner, and patted the seat beside him.

"Come 'ere, ol buddy. I think this footage is telling us more than we have uncovered. Loki's talking to Steve, well, gesturing, that is," he said grinning with amusement as his eyes went back to the tape. Bruce's eyebrows went up, and he slowly walked over and sat down beside him.

-•-

_"Brother, you have been in there for months. Why won't you come out?" Thor's booming voice sounded outside, almost with a demanding edge to it. Inside, Loki jumped at the sudden noise. With a raise of his finger, green luminous writings appeared in front of Thor, "I don't want to."_

_Thor was taken aback by the magic, jumping away, but after reading it slowly (it was not exactly his forte), he rapidly banged on the door, with much more force this time, "Loki. Come out this instant. Mother worries for you."_

_At that, Loki giggled, his eyes slightly crazed with sleep deprivation and an unsound mind. The laughter bubbled to the surface in a mad rush, and he looked to the ground, grinning. Frigga had said that? Oh, she should not have. What did she tell him when he finally mustered the courage to confess the happenings to her?_

_"Oh, Loki. These matters are so complicated," she had said gently, grasping his shaking shoulders. He had flinched backwards, an immediate response, eyes frightened, before slowly trying to move back to where he had stood before her._

_"You musn't tell anyone. This will break the peace between Asgard and Vanaheim, do you understand? We have not been having much peaceful relations after that terrible war and it is most vital that we, Vanaheim and Asgard, do not once again fight. I only came over here after the war and years have gone by, but things remain sour and memories unforgotten. You are but a tiny sacrifice, Loki. Things are bigger than your own agony. Sometimes, we have to learn," she said so gently as she caressed Loki's cheek _(just like him- the hands always roaming, always _touching_)_, "to accept our fates. That sometimes, things just don't go our way."_

_He had backed away with uncertain, tear-filled eyes, running out of the door with tremendous speed, heart thudding. Why? Why? Why!? Mother, why me? Why do I not possess the strength to ignore this defilement? It is but a small sacrifice, for _Asgard_, my home, my everything. Why then, am I so weak?_

_He locked himself in the room, physical barriers blocking out the non-magic users, and crumbled onto his bed._

_The next night, when Lord Afiel arrived, Loki, with a flick of his stained black black black fingers, put the metal clasps onto himself after stripping himself. The Lord had raised a brow, then a grin filled out his features. The boy was learning._

_The Vanir stepped towards him, and he was not let go of till dawn arrived._

_"Loki! Open the door this instant. Mother worries so much, just for your selfishness. Let her have a peace of mind. Why do you torture her so?" Thor's voice again. Loki looked to the door. Behind that was his brother, who knew nothing and was pampered beyond belief. His would-be King, partaking in given glory. A brilliant warrior with might and integrity, unlike the weak brother practicing with the womanly arts; a disgrace._

_He smiled, broken, and flicked his _red blood_ hands, screaming screaming screaming, and the door opened. Thor stomped in, voice filled with impatience and fury, "Loki, this is too much, even for you. Months! You've been-"_

_Thor's eyes were wide, as he was shocked into silence in mid-sentence._

_"Brother, what happened to you?"_

_Loki was adorned with royal clothes, but where skin showed his bruises were revealed, purplish red strips and bruises decorated along his arms. His face was untouched however, unblemished as always._

_"I fell."_

_Thor looked extremely unconvinced as he strode up to his brother. "You mean to say you were secretly practicing with the blade in your room, weren't you? Loki, you lie terribly."_

_Loki looked up at his brother. "Yes, I want Father to be proud." It was not a lie._

_Thor grinned, and walked up to inspect the wounds. A large frown slowly coated his features. He abruptly reached out to grab Loki's wounded wrist and Loki yelped in fear and surprise, immediately trying to pull away, but Thor firmly held him. Ignoring his brother's abnormal reaction, he said, "Brother. These aren't practice wounds."_

_Loki panicked, trying to pull and stop the continued human contact. "Let go of me, Thor! Let go!" He shouted hysterically, frame trembling. Thor firmly held on. "No. Not until you tell me what is going on."_

_Loki snarled, flicking his fingers towards Thor and used magic to slam him into the wall. Thor let out a grunt upon impact, before sliding to the floor._

_"Do not touch me!" Loki shouted at him, eyes gleaming with fury, "You know nothing." He hissed._

_Thor slowly got up, bewildered eyes staring in shock, "Brother, since when have you gotten so strong-"_

_"Ask no more, Thor, and get out of my chambers. You should just go out there and continue living your perfect golden princely life while I continue to rot in my own filthy stench."_

_"Loki-"_

_"Get out!"_

_Thor slowly got up, and walked out of the door, fear of his once kind, soft brother entering his eyes. Loki slammed the door upon his exit and laughed._

_/"Mother worries for you."/_

_Loki could easily translate the words himself: "Mother worries Loki will tell the whole of Asgard of Lord Afiel's deeds and destroy the fragile peace of the two realms." He felt the tears welling up and slammed the bed hard, fists clenched with great strain._

_For the first time, Loki was consumed in hatred._

-•-

On the other side of the screens, Clint was vigorously thrashing on the bed, eyes closed but it was as if he was going into a fit.

"Shit! Bruce, I'm going to check on Clint. You monitor Steve and Loki." Tony jumped out of his seat, but Bruce held him back down.

"Not to be boastful, but I am a certified doctor. I'll check on him instead." With that said, Bruce stood up and hurriedly walked towards the lift. Tony continued watching the screens and watched as Bruce reached Clint's bedside and tried to hold him down with a cloth. The thrashing was getting worse, but Bruce merely carefully placed a clean cloth in Barton's mouth to protect his tongue.

Tony sighed to himself, fingers crossing, and turned back to the footage of Steve and Loki.

What the hell was going on?

-•-

Loki looked expectantly at the Captain. Steve shook his head in response. "Nope, I still don't understand what you're trying to say."

Loki scribbled on the paper, the elegant writings clear: Their identities will remain. Memories will not interfere. Steve nodded, "When they experience your memories, are they experiencing it as themselves?" Loki thought for a while, before shaking his head. He wrote on the paper: They experience it as me.

"Oh, but they won't remember who they are as they experience it?"

Loki wrote, scribbling furiously on the worn paper: What do you mean?

"As in, they wouldn't go through it and suddenly realize, 'Oh, this is Loki's memories, why am I here?' like in, you know, those movies?"

Loki shook his head and below the various lines he had written before: They are pulled in. Their identities are seperate from my memories.

"Oh."

Loki looked intently to Steve as silence reigned over them, as if to say: "Anymore questions?" Steve gulped and his eyes hesitantly looked into Loki's, "I do have a question that you don't have to answer. I respect privacy whenever I can."

Loki stared, expectant.

"What did you go through that caused them to act like this?"

-•-

.

.

.

A/N: Thank you for reading! The next chapter will be up soon. Just wanted to clear up some doubts here. Loki's point of view in the story is sometimes female/male. This is because Natasha and Clint are going through and feeling the experiences, but as Loki. When Loki is mentioned as 'she', it is Natasha going through the memories. Likewise, when it is 'he', Clint is experiencing the memories. More doubts will come up and hopefully be cleared as we go along, but I hope you stay patient with me!

Some of you might feel Loki not wanting to escape may be OOC, but many odd and OOC actions will gradually be explained and revealed as the story goes on. Another thing, the reason why I chose Clint and Natasha: they seem to be the two that loathe Loki the most, to me. I thought the only way they would ever forgive his actions is to actually personally experience Loki's past themselves and _understand_.

Okay, this is getting too long. Till next time!

-Anony


	3. Natasha

Six days after she touched the Memory Stone, Natasha Romanoff awakened with an ear-piercing scream.

Steve was by her side in an instant and tried his utmost to soothe her. "Shhh, shhh. It's okay. Hey, I'm here."

Loki sat in the corner of the room, eyes guarded and hardened as was the muzzle around his mouth. Everyone had consented to him being there, just in case anything bad happened and that if it did, they would happily slaughter him. The Avengers, except for Thor who had momentarily returned to Asgard, were all in the medical room, waiting. According to Loki's intel, the unconscious agents would wake within the maximum span of seven days.

On the sixth day, Natasha awoke, as Loki had predicted. She screamed and struggled as Steve and the other Avengers tried to hold her down, a bundle of hysterics as she kicked and punched left and right. Her crazed eyes were wild as she screeched, "Don't touch me! Let go!" Loki only watched, and waited. She was unable to calm down, and Bruce feared she would go into a fit.

"Everyone back off," Bruce growled over the noise, and everyone did. Natasha was quieter despite the hysteric look she was wearing, and she started mumbling nothings to herself as she dragged the blanket up to her neck, body still trembling.

Time passed with everyone silently regarding the agent, quiet and careful. After a good while, her mumblings became more coherent, "I am Natasha Romanoff, I am Natasha Romanoff, I am Natasha Romanoff-" she whispered to herself as she shook violently. Tony suddenly moved, and Natasha whipped her head towards him and snarled, "Don't move or I'll wring your puny little neck, Man of Iron."

Tony stilled with evident fear and shock. She had called him _what?!_  
She abruptly dropped her head to her cupped hands and said more loudly, "I am Natasha Romanoff, I am Natasha Romanoff-"

Steve looked to Loki, gaze questioning. The God of Chaos read it as: _You said... they would not be like this. What is going on?_Loki sighed through his muzzle, and at this Romanoff's head swivelled and her eyes looked straight into his. Her eyes widened, and her quivering hand rose, pointing at him. The Avengers promptly followed the direction of the finger, looking at the muzzled God.

Loki shifted uncomfortably.

"You..." Natasha whispered loudly, "I was you..."

"It's the stone, Natasha. Do you remember what happened?" Steve nudged gently, voice soft as he slowly regarded her. She turned to him, eyes confused and wide and absolutely crazed, before she brought the tips of her hands to her lips. There were no scars of the Dwarf's thread that had been sewed through her lips, no Sif's golden locks being cut because of her mischief, no Thor, the brother who was-

Her head pounded, and she shouted, hysterics restarting, "I am Natasha Romanoff! I am the Black Widow, I am a SHIELD agent, I hate Loki Laufeyson, I hate his guts for doing what he did to Clint Barton, my benefactor and friend. I am in a highly specialised group named The Avengers and I am Natasha Romanoff."

She huffed, and her audience was silent. The craze in her eyes dimmed a little and Steve put his hands onto her back in a patting gesture, but received a shove in kind, with a "Don't TOUCH ME!". She scrambled to the end of the bed and screamed, covering her face with her hands.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU JERK, don't you touch me. You DISGUSTING FREAK of an ambassador. YOU SHOULD DIE AND ALLOW HELA TO TORTURE YOU THE WAY YOU DID ME YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

She heaved, her chest rising, and the tears pooling. She sobbed bitterly, the hands wiping unending tears, and at that time all the Avengers could see was a broken, confused little girl. Steve could not resist and grabbed her in a tight hug. Natasha stiffened but did not push him away as she sobbed, "Steve... I feel terrible... Everything," she said in between sobs, "is terrible... I hate everyone there.. You don't know what those bastards did to me..."

Loki stiffened. The Avengers peered at him, and he wished he could disappear ino his ether now. The agent was spewing too much of his personal life. He stood, walking towards Tony and pointed at his muzzle. In a matter of minutes, his jaw was wonderfully free, but he realized he had nothing to say as he looked upon the scene. What could he say?

Tony and Bruce looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. Loki looked to the agent on the bed, and finally spoke.

"They are merely memories, Agent. Nothing more."

Tony could not decide whether the God of Chaos was actually trying to comfort the agent or not, but he did not expect those to be the first words coming out of his mouth after such a long time. At this she peered up at him, still sobbing, and she gestured for him to come over. Loki hesitated, part afraid she would hurt him in her crazed fragile state, but he walked over nonetheless.

She let go of Steve and dragged Loki down on the bed and hugged him. _Actually HUGGED_him, and sobbed even more. She bawled into his prisoner clothing; simple grey shirt and trousers, tears dripping onto his shirt. Loki landed awkwardly on the bed with an "Oof" and flinched when she touched him. He was quite unused to touch and hugging was, frankly, something very foreign to him. He pulled back to a standing position quickly, slipping out of her grasp as he exclaimed in surprise and shock, "What do you think you're doing-"

"I'm mentally unstable right now. I just pulled the God of Chaos into my patient bed and hugged him."

Loki's eyes flashed, "We aren't on very close ties, Agent Romanoff. Don't forget your place as an Avenger and enemy. You may be in a fragile state right now, but that doesn't condone your actions. If you must know, you reliving my life doesn't make _any_difference regarding my feelings toward you, so do not take it the wrong way."

Everyone paused and Loki's jaw started to ache, still feeling extremely unused and stiff. Steve looked to Romanoff, eyes wary.

"Romanoff, everything? You saw everything?"

She laughed in that crazed manner that really scared Steve deep down, bubbles of giggly hysterics streaming out of her mouth, "Everything. I didn't see, Rogers, I experienced, I _felt_every damn thing, even up to the interrogation room, even when I was throwing Tony Stark, pesky Man of Iron, off his own building, even when I was fighting you Steve, even when Alfiel-"

"Enough, " Loki interrupted, eyes ablazed, "I don't care what you tell them behind my back for I cannot undo have has been done and I cannot control you into keeping mum, but at least," Loki breathed, "don't say it in front of me."

"I'm sorry hotshots, but you don't actually get to decide-" Tony started, but he was cut off by Romanoff.

"I'm sorry."

Loki looked at her, indignant. The Avengers were shocked into silence.

"I hate to repeat myself Agent Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow and enemy of the God of Chaos, but we aren't _friends_." Loki hissed insistently, fists clenched, "Don't_ apologise_to your enemy!"

She stood up, glaring at him in return, "And what if I don't regard you as my enemy anymore?"

"Y-You!" Loki spluttered incoherently, "Fool! Things don't work-" _that way_, he had wanted to say, but Romanoff held his wrist tightly and he unwillingly flinched in response. Without a word, she pulled him out of the room, down the corridor. Loki, dumbfounded beyond words, followed for a distance before shaking off the hand on his wrist.

"What are you doing?! Don't you see that you're ruining the equilibrium of things?! Return as you were, Agent! Stop seeing imaginary happenings just because you lived my life once!" He seethed, pulling away and was unsure where to go.

"Loki, you don't know how it feels like; being someone else who suddenly is being thrown into your life. You live long, so much longer than I have. Your memories are mine now. Natasha Romanoff's memories pales drastically to yours. Don't you understand? I have felt what you been through as _you_. How can you simply ask me to return to how I was before?"

Loki looked at her, frustration and confusion flitting through his features, "I told you not to touch the stone! Now things are irreparable for the both of us and the archer! Now, my secrets are known to you agents and definitely SHIELD, while_ you_are confused by which is your true identity. In which case I assure you, Agent Romanoff, that Loki Laufeyson's memories are merely that to you: memories. You are better off forgetting than remembering."

The scientific duo had caught up to Loki and Natasha, leaving Steve behind to tend to Barton. "Natasha, calm down, I think you're not exactly in the right state of mind. You need rest-" Bruce started, but she lifted her hand and pointed at Loki, "I don't need rest, but he needs the world's best psychological psychiatrist, on the damn double."

Loki frowned, "What is a psychiatrist-"

"Romanoff, dear, it's been a long day. Your dear huggable Loki needs his rest too. How about putting away your dollies and dresses and /madness/, and going to the princess bed with Mr. Teddy?"

Natasha glared at Stark, eyes containing burning hell. Tony gulped. "I will let the matter rest for today. But rest assured, Man of-" she frowned, correcting herself, "Iron Man, that I will pursue the matter in future." She stalked back into the room, as Tony muttered under his breath, "Oh God, please don't let her speak like that for the rest of her life. Such olden English, formal speech torture. And why doesn't anyone realize that Iron is not the suit's materia-"

Loki abruptly held out his hand. Bruce stared bewildered. Tony chuckled, "No thank you, Sunshine. Dancing ballroom style along the corridors with a mad God isn't really my taste." Loki rolled his eyes. "I am merely requesting for the muzzle. You would put it on me eventually, would you not? I'd rather do it myself."

Tony shrugged, passing the muzzle over, "Truthfully, Sunshine? I really don't know how we should be treating you anymore."

-•-

For the rest of the day, Loki stayed in the medical room, thinking and brooding. The Romanoff agent (she was currently sleeping, mild thrashing fits disturbing her sleep but it was relatively better then before) was terribly worrisome, and he was terrified that she would report everything to the organisation SHIELD. He privately wondered if he would be there while she recounted his life. Perhaps she would record it down for further reference? He shuddered. It was a depressing thought to have another know _everything_about you, let alone two of your enemies. Most disturbing indeed.

Thor had gone back to Asgard and had been there for a long time, most likely discussing with the AllFather about his sentence. The stone however, was kept by Stark and Banner, The Iron Man and The Hulk, respectively, to be thoroughly investigated and analysed. By this time, they hugely doubt it was a threat, but it paid to ensure it was safe.

At this time, Romanoff stirred and awakened. She had slept for another five hours straight. She sat up, peered at Loki at the end of the room and gestured him to sit in the middle of the two beds where Steve had sat before; her hands patting the chair indicating he sit there.

"Come here." she said aloud, her voice still hoarse. Loki shook his head. He wanted to tell her: "If you must remember, the last time I listened to you you practically dragged me down on the bed and attacked my torso. Moreover we are enemies, Agent. Stop wallowing in your pity towards me.", but he was muzzled, and this merely shook his head, expression stubborn.

Natasha shrugged in response. "Fine, then I'll join you." She sat up on the bed and walked towards the corner of the room where he sat, and slumped down beside him. Loki ignored her, uncomfortably shifting away with a little more distance apart. Thankfully, she did not follow suit.

"You lied."

Loki turned his head towards her, brows raised, as if saying: I_ always_lie.

"That time in the interrogation room, when you said you didn't tell anyone about Alfiel."

Loki looked away. It was terrible to be reminded that the woman beside him, an enemy, knew everything about him, and would most probably tell the whole world about it soon. Now it would be terribly _simple_for her to just dig up painful memories and humiliations to spite him, threaten him or even taunt him-

"Loki?" Her tone was decievingly neutral. Loki took out the pen by his side and wrote on the same notebook Steve had passed to him.

'Frigga doesn't count.' He held the book up for a while, showing her the elegant writing, before placing it down on the floor again. Natasha looked at him.

"She does."

She was insistent. Loki shook his head vigorously, once again showing his point. Romanoff gave up soon enough, for once feeling much like herself in a long, long time. She had a differing opinion from Loki, the being whose screwed up memories had suddenly become her own. It was relieving to know she would be herself again, soon enough.

An awkward silence reigned for a long while before Natasha spoke again.

"Isn't it embarrassing to know a woman has seen, experienced actually, you naked?"

Loki looked at Natasha and frowned. Then suddenly he realized what she meant and he rolled his eyes, as if to say: 'Really? After all you've learnt of me you decide focus on that?' The agent barked with sudden laughter at Loki's disapproving look, thoroughly amused by his response. The Agent's laughter was infectious, and it was not before long that Loki shot her a wry, exasperated look.

"It was weird seeing myself through your eyes. I looked so foreign, and strange, just the pesky Agent Natasha Romanoff whom I assumed was the possible lover of my used-to-be minion."

Loki scribbled on the paper: "MY ex-minion, MY thoughts, MY actions. Please don't confuse your own with mine. It makes it worse." He was not _worried_for the Agent. He just did not like others /stealing his things, or well, in this case, thoughts.

"Fine, fine."

They sat in a comforting silence, both terribly exhausted from everything, just taking in the peace and quiet for a short while.

When Stark finally found them sitting side by side in the room Loki had accidentally fell asleep with his head on his arms that were leaning his knees, reminding Natasha of that time in the royal bath where the young Loki had broke down, finally releasing his fear, hatred, confusion and helplessness. That same position: the same cuddled up, crouching position in which Loki was sleeping now and the younger him (_her_) scrambling to the corner of the metal tub, scrubbing and scrubbing and _hurting_and heaving with agony-

She clenched her fists.

"Hey Natasha, Bruce needs you to come down to the labs." Tony whispered, more afraid of angering Natasha should he wake Loki than actually disturbing the God of Chaos himself. She nodded, and stood up, hastily following his steps.

On the way, Stark turned to her and asked in a forced casual tone, "Hey, everything alright?" She looked to him, considering if she should lie, but said instead, "No Stark, I don't think I'll be fine for quite a while. I think we need a meeting after Clint wakes up. There are many things we need to talk about."

"About deary Loki back there?"

She nodded solemnly, ignoring the tease. "About Loki. His charge is... valid, but there are different kinds of punishments for his... situation."

Suddenly he walked in front of her, startling and causing her to jump back. He firmly held her shoulders, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. They were both along the corridor of the medical rooms, standing still as he held her. She gulped; the touch was still uncomfortable and frightening to her.

"Natasha, listen. I'm not the hero, nor a good guy. I am Tony Stark, and I sure as hell do things my way. But some things, no matter what, cannot be changed. I know Lokes back there has some pretty screwed up memories for sure, but you _aren't_ him. His punishment isn't only decided by the Avengers. Screw SHIELD, but Asgard? This is _different_, Natasha, I know you're disorientated and confused now, but you have to _think_. Lokes is the _bad_guy. We aren't supposed to be all buddy-buddy overnight. I rarely worry about shit but this is just- I don't like the sound of this whole thing. Everything's just screwed."

She looked at him with pained eyes.

"Tell me that again when you touch that damn stone, Stark. You don't understand. In fact,_ nobody_ understood. That was how Loki turned out like that. He's been through a lot, Anthony. If I were him I'd be in a mental hospital."

Tony shrugged, "He fits the criteria already. The doctors would gladly take the guy." With that, he let go of her and walked up ahead, with her trailing behind.

His curious mind was only filled with one thought: What if I had touched the stone?

-•-

A/N: Hey guys. The next update may take longer, and for that I deeply apologize. In this chapter, I would just like to clarify that Natasha's reaction wasn't exaggerated. She's been through Loki's rape as Loki himself. She's practically a victim. Therefore when she woke up she returned as herself, but with the experience of the memories. How she reacted upon waking is based on Natasha's personality, not Loki's. As such, Barton will also be different when he wakes. Yes, and our dear Anthony Stark doesn't make much of an appearance as of yet, but he will come in and steal the show pretty soon. If, based on the conversation, any of you assume that I ship Natasha/Loki, I'm afraid you will be disappointed because I don't really ship them... Not to say that I have confirmed any kinds of shipping in this story as of yet, but that will come later. Another thing to clarify: Loki seems all chilled out because, see- he's_ Loki. _And Natasha's acting like that because she was raised Midgardian and Agent, not Asgardian and prince. Oh and why does Loki seems all non-evil and oh-so-exhausted? Wait for it, guys, or there'll be no story to tell ;)

Alright folks! Till next time!


	4. Between

"Loki..." A groan followed the whispery words as warm, wet lips sensually trailed his earlobe. Loki shivered, frame trembling, pushing with his now larger and more mature hands flat against the other's chest, struggling to keep away. He squirmed, breath hitching as his earlobe was licked and sucked with a pressure he could barely withstand. He moved backwards from the contact, trying to get away with stumbling feet, only to feel the other brutally slam him into the wall and continue the assault.

He felt a sharp jarring pain from when his head hit the wall. Blackness swirled in his vision. The other continued trailing rough kisses down his smooth, pale neck, leaving visible marks on unblemished skin as the hands desperately tried to uncloth fabric.

"S-Stop..." Loki breathed, hands feebly pushing, head still spinning. He did not know whether it was from the tense sexual situation or from the impact his head took, but his muddled head inhibited all thinking.

"Mmm, you're not even resisting as much as you should...

-Brother."

At this, something in Loki snapped. He abruptly shoved with his full strength, hands slamming onto the unprotected chest. Thor stumbled backwards easily enough, but maintained his balance. "You're drunk on that atrocious mead, Thor. You don't yet know of your actions. Cease such stupidity at once."

Thor barked with great laughter, voice low and slurred, "Fandral tells me of his desires with you, Brother. The whole kingdom, even the maidens, tell me you are of great beauty. I am King! Why should you resist consorting with your future, mighty King!?" He laughed again, attempting stumbling steps.

Loki's eyes narrowed. "What did you hear that made you drunk so?"

Thor smiled, the expression never truly reaching his eyes. "They tell me I'm a fool, for treating you like a brother. They tell me that you are the very symbol of feminity comparable to that of the Greek Goddess Aphrodite. For who could possess such charm, such weakness, such horrendous, lowly, womanly-"

Thor blinked as the slap landed across his face. Loki's hand equally stung as his heaving chest tried to contain the throbbing heart inside. Thor looked up at his brother, shock apparent on his face. Loki's eyes were teary, his hand shivering not only from the slap. "Begone, Thor. Spout your knifely words elsewhere but here. I need no such thing." The broken voice trembled, the low croaking indicating an onslaught of weak, weak, weak tears.

Thor laughed. "Fine, Brother. You are undoubtably sensitive as rumoured. It yet proves you are of the womanly arts-"

Loki twirled his fingers in motion, his face tired and hollow, and Thor slammed through the sturdy wooden doors straight into the main hallway. He covered his eyes with his hand, letting the tears flow, and let the hurt reach him deep inside.

Useless. Weak. Womanly. Disgusting. Whore. Slut. Useless.

He had learnt how much words hurt the hard way.

* * *

"Thor, no!" Barton screamed, voice hoarse and raw with unbridled emotion. He shuddered on the bed, forehead perspiring profusely, fists clenched. "Please, please.." his voice trembled. Loki stirred from his sleep and looked up at the man on the bed, green eyes suddenly alight and alert. The first frightening thought entered his mind: How did I fall asleep? He started panicking, absolutely flustered. How could he have _just fallen asleep!?_ Gods did not just _fall asleep_like this! He had let down his defences around the enemy and revealed his absolutely vulnerable side to Agent Romanoff. As if his past was not already enough!

_Fool!_ Loki chided himself, infuriation rippling through his being. _Look at what you have done!_

He had been feeling unusually exhausted and "zoned-out" recently; as a modern Midgardian New Yorker would say. It was a deep-set lethargy that had been slowly seeping into his very bones, melding and wrapping innards, leeching onto tendons. He barely had the energy to move, but he had credited it to the muzzle. However, now that his lethargy was going on the borders of 'sleep' and 'vulnerable', he was beginning to suspect: It was not the muzzle.

Indeed, there was something incredibly wrong with the weakening of his strength and he would make _sure_to find out-

"Ugh!" Barton let out an unusual groan of pain, grabbing his sides as he did. Loki's train of thought was interrupted and he looked to the man on the bed, delicate frame tensed for any onslaught of curses or assaults. From the corner of the room where he sat, it was difficult to determine if the archer's eyes were closed, but the rather uneven, less rapid breathing proved the man was still fast asleep, unwilling entrapped in a world Loki never did want anyone else to know.

He slowly stood up, movements cautious, silent and sleek as a cat. He slinked over to stand by Barton's bedside and peered into the man's face. Confusion and fear were evident. Tear tracks adorned the archer's cheeks, his hands remaining as fists that never seemed to unclench. Loki looked away for a while, collecting and reminding himself that the enemy laying upon the bed was the _enemy_, and not a pathetic, shadowy reminder of his vulnerability.

He did not seem to entirely comprehend what he was doing, but he simply stared at the Agent's disarrayed features, for once revealing a little of his confusion with the situation. He was attempted to touch the man, just to see if he would be sucked back into his own memories. He lifted a hand, a delicate finger reaching out to touch the arm, slowly moving closer, until the tip of his finger was almost upon skin. That was when he paused, finger tense with a tiny space between him and skin, heart beating with inhibited anxiety. It was close, so close to reliving what he had tried so hard to forget. Was he, even now, too weak to face that fear he had locked away in the dark, rocky depths of the red pulsing organ in his chest? _Clawing at his neck, drawing blood blood blood, the tears trailing down uncontrollably as he flung the mirror into the adjacent wall, throwing his wild head back and laughing, laughing with contorted laughter, frame rippling with unbridled fury, undisguised shame and absolute disgust with himself, crumbling into a useless heap on the ground, weakweakweak-_

His hand dropped to his side, snapping out of the sudden onslaught of memory. He was, after all this time, nothing but a coward. He put his hand up to rub his face in frustration. He did not dare to relive his own life, did not dare to experience the wretched fate he had been hanging on to. Was that cowardice, or selfishness on his own part? Was it too much to ask to let him forget? To recover in his own little way? He let out a bitter laugh through the muzzle, yet another pitiful reminder of his wretchedness, and turned back to the corner of the room _where he belonged, crouched and docile like a bred beast, waiting for the master's command-_ _"Loki, my pet, come here-"_

Loki gritted his teeth. Stop coming back now, fools! Stay where you are, forgotten and useless memories. You aid nothing in my plans. They are merely rough experiences that moulded me into the powerful fearless being I am.

_"They are merely memories, Agent. Nothing more."_

_I wish_, he thought as he cast his downcast eyes upon the blank, concrete floor, _I could have convince myself the same too, Agent._

* * *

Natasha entered the lab trailing behind the Great Tony Stark, features still ablaze from the conversation. She knew she seemed too overprotective of Loki all of a sudden, but to be fair, she had experience more than a hundred years of suffering on Loki's part and she felt justified to feel at least a little angry over the accusations flung at the God left and right. Truthfully, as real-Midgardian-time went by, she felt more like herself, Agent Natasha Romanoff, and found herself naturally looking at Loki's experience from a detached viewpoint. The experiences were scarring, yes, but she realized as time went by, the memories were not as significant as her own, and she felt more in control.

"Natasha? Hey, you alright? You don't have to force yourself to come down here if you're tired. You should probably rest more.." Bruce asked, tone dripping with sincere concern akin to Steve. He was the usual rather shy, awkward self but there seemed to be a rather edgy side to his demeanour. Loki had been one for distinguishing lies from truth and Natasha guessed he rubbed off some on her in terms of observing others.

"I am fine, Doctor. You may tell me what you intend to. I am assuming it's regarding the Memory Stone?"

Stark raised a brow as he leaned on the edge of the nearby table, arms elegantly crossed. "Well, yeah. We need some first-hand data and analysis from the victim. How it was like, etcetera. And there's something else we need to tell you, a theory actually, if you may."

Natasha nodded her consent and walked over to the Memory Stone. It was secured in the middle of a huge circular device with four pincer-like hands holding on to the stone. The previously dull stone pulsed flashing bright, occasional fiery sparks reaching out and dropping onto the ground. Natasha jumped back in surprise, afraid if she touched the spark she would go through the terrible experience again. The stone remained oblivious to her reaction, a beacon of brightness in the lab. The ruby cut in its centre pulsed even more so, a scarlet wild red against the whiteness. Natasha stared, nervous yet unexpectedly entranced. It seemed to be emitting so much energy...

The two scientists let her analyse the stone, standing to the side and observing her reaction. It was akin to an animal reaching out for something new, staring but afraid of sudden movement. Natasha suddenly turned to them, voicing out her thoughts.

"It seems to be emitting a lot of energy."

Tony shook his head, "Radiation, darling. Its energy levels fluctuate, but really, your finger should have melted when you touched it."

Natasha looked back to stone and mumbled under her breath, "I didn't get to touch it..."

"Oh right," Tony suddenly remembered, "you touched Barton."

"That's right. I know you guys were there, but you probably want another reaccount from the 'victim'?" Natasha asked, eyes still peering at the tiny stone that had caused this mess- no, revelation. Bruce nodded, putting a finger up before she spoke, "But we wish to know more than just the beginning. We need everything, from the touching to how you entered Clint's state of mind to-"

"The memories themselves. Terrible to reaccount, I know, but necessary." Tony finished, casually leaning back on the counter. Natasha gulped, before saying, "Alright, but I cannot guarantee I won't act up along the way."

Tony smiled reassuringly, "Relax darling, we'll make sure you're all dandy when you leave."

Natasha looked unconvinced.

"I hope so."

* * *

"Father-" a gruff voice called out, hands reaching to persuade. Odin Allfather shrugged it off, plunging his staff on the ground with might, leaving dust springing up from the floor where the end of the staff had hit.

"I tire of your foolishness, Thor. Leave me be."

Thor adorned a pained expression; eyes soul-deep with unspoken longing, brows knitted together into a frown. He walked further upwards behind his father and suddenly noticed how he seemed to be in his father's shadow, the lighting casting at a coincidental moment. He remembered of Loki's words, words he never did understood no matter how hard he tried: "_Thor, I am nothing but a shadow, trailing behind others' backs, always hidden, always different-"_

Thor shook his head, clearing it, before reaching out again. "But Father, you must understand. We musn't leave Loki on Midguard. He thinks us wrong and he tells me of the hatred he possesses. We must heal him-"

"Enough!" Odin roared, staff slamming onto the ground the second time. Thor stilled, staying silent. The King turned around, a piercing eye laying upon the Thunder God, before saying, "Loki will stay on Midguard. Let the Midguardians punish him for his wrongs. Maybe then will he be forgiven and returned to Asgard. If he.. dies, it will be his own doing."

Thor's eyes widened, mouth opening to protest but Odin merely raised up his hand in a halting gesture.

"The Midguardians... they do not wrongfully request for the quenching of their thirsty revenge for the chaos reigned upon their lands. As Allfather, I will remain fair and allow any Asgardian to be punished in their terms. That is all there is to it."

Thor felt the rebuttal die on his tongue. He bowed his head with his arm across his chest in respect, something his old arrogant self never did learn to do, before turning and stalking away from the Odin Allfather.

If they had to leave Loki on Midguard for his punishment, Thor swore a true oath to himself that he would make sure Loki made it through alive.

* * *

Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes as Steve and Bruce gently carried Natasha to the medical rooms. The young woman was not lying when she said she would act up. As she talked, she seemed more intense and on the edge. Tony thought it merely to be something minor that went along with the recount of such graphic memories, but she started going into a fit-like state and the next thing they knew, she was wringing punches back and forth, trying get them "the hell away" from her. Bruce, the ol always prepared buddy, had prepared a tranquilizer jab that they had gladly used on the crazed Natasha. It was a bad idea, allowing her to recount the way she did, especially her person being so close to the stone itself.

The young Captain America had shot a warning glare towards him as he gently carried the unconscious young woman on his strong back. Bruce, the current acting doctor, had followed him closely behind. It seemed the blame was his, again. He crumpled back onto his chair, expression deflated, brows creased. How could his genius fail him? Till now, they were unable to figure out the foreign rock and its sources. He looked at his surroundings, dull eyes flickering about. He spotted a clock. Huh. They had actually taken more than five hours with the whole affair. He absent-mindlessly thrust his foot into the nearby dustbin, causing it to topple over. He languidly watched the contents tip over, littering the floor with bits and pieces of varying trash. He turned around in his chair, head flopping back, hair wildly mussed upon the back of the chair.

Energy... Where did it come from? He rubbed his eyes, looking to the trash can again. The memories came from Loki. The hosts, Natasha and Clint, replayed them. The stone provided the medium in which they could access the memories. The source of supplied energy was obviously from the God then. But the question was: How?

Tony huffed, a word flitting through his mind: Magic. He hated magic. He could not explain anything when it came down to magic. He sat there a while longer, hands clawing hair with frustration. He thought Natasha would have provided him with an inkling of an answer, but looked at what he caused in the end? Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Captain America, adorning a plain grey T-shirt and worried blue eyes entered the lab hurriedly. Tony eyed him quietly and spread his arms in a placating gesture, ready to take the scolding about his immaturity, senselessness and explain to Steve the completely sound reasoning for questioning Host Number 2, Natasha Romanoff.

"Steve darling, you see-"

Instead, Steve said in quick breaths, "Tony, you have to see this now," as he grabbed the surprised scientist's wrist firmly, pulling his full weight of the chair. Tony stumbled forward into the Captain's arms, expression dumbfounded.

"Let me guess, you're postponing your scolding because something further has happened to Romanoff."

Steve shook his head as he hauled Tony down the hallway into the lifts.

"No, Clint's awake."

Tony raised a brow. He must have been so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice movement in the screens.

"Chaotic, I assume?"

Steve shot him a grimace.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Loki's head was pounding. It was as if a hammer had been shoved into his head and started knocking his insides silly. The shrill ringing would not stop. He tried to move his muscles and stand, but he fell backwards into the corner he was seated in. He rasped, eyes tightly shut from the throbbing in his head and the weakening of his body. He now knew it was the stone. The pulsing stone's radiant energy was from him, draining himself to provide the continued medium for Clint Barton to replay his memories. The stone was never meant for two beings to simultaneously touch, let alone humans. It seemed humans had a slower rate of information absorption, which explained why they were in their comatose state for an unbearably long time. Which also meant he was feeding them his energy for that same duration. Loki leant his head against the wall, curled up in the corner, breathing heavily. At this rate...

He opened his eyes, meeting a world of blurred objects and blackening sights. Why was it draining him at such a rapid rate? He squinted and could vaguely see the archer convulsing on the bed. The Barton boy was rejecting the replayed reality. Loki coughed into his muzzle, almost ready to feel the slippery feeling of ruby blood droplets, but there was not any. He returned to his thoughts: he was being drained at a rapid rate_ because_the human was actually going against him, because the archer was fighting him! He was feeding more energy than he should!

He leant against the wall as he slowly rose on shaky legs. He had never seen a God wither away and die before, but he was not going to take his chances. The Barton boy was leeching too much on his essence. If Loki allowed it to continue... Gasping, he stumbled towards the creased bed sheets where the groaning archer lay, grappling hands feebly clutching on the sides of the medical bed, holding himself upright as best as he could. He had to stop this never-ending transmission of energy or he would most likely pass out.

But how was he supposed to stop it? The Avengers had been trying for the past week and had not succeeded! His brain was too groggy to process anymore, and so he reached out, hands trembling, and grabbed the archer by the shoulders. He shook with whatever energy he had left, hands careful not to touch skin, only fabric. The archer's fitful slumber continued nonetheless. Loki groaned in frustration. He could feel it; the little slips of energy being drained out of him as the seconds ticked by. His force dimmed tremendously and the deafening roar in his head was drowning him.

Furiously desperate, Loki clenched a fist and pummelled it into Clint's chest. The impact caused the body to jerk abruptly, but Barton would not respond.

_Wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP! _Loki wanted to holler between the sharp gasps rising from his constricting chest through the suffocating muzzle. Instead, his body gave out from the continued exertion. He shot Clint a last pained gaze; those pair of agonised fluttering emeralds orbs looking upon the archer, before he fell unconscious to the ground, unknown to the world around him.

A few minutes later, Clint Barton awoke-

-silent as stone.

* * *

This update is terribly late. For that, I deeply apologize. If there are any questions, do ask! Truthfully, I'm not very satisfied with this chapter, but I've been dragging it for far too long now... I thought I owed you guys something. Thank you for reading! :)

{Reviews feed the rainbow bunnies in my head. My perverted mind is fueled by those sweet words. Drip them in your best honey and shoot them at me baby!}

-Anony

ninja-in-training


	5. Clint

His eyes were dark and hooded against the clinical background. They were downcast. Within their depths lay bare emptiness, soulless but clouded. They gazed beyond what others could reach, hands ripping and searching in plain, mindless mist for answers to impossible questions. He adorned a patient's unruly gown, the crisp plastic-like whiteness almost glaring to unused eyes. The blank oppressing whiteness had replaced rich honeyed golden, the walls splashed with a smooth plainness that was not of Asgard, nor even of the chilling touch of sapphire that was Jotunheim. He looked down, dead eyes seeking images, graphics to explain the unchangeable fact: he was not where he ought to be. He blinked owlishly, almost an automatic action. His eyes fed him a stream of neurotransmitters that indicated he was looking at a perfect clone of himself. The fair milk skin smooth and unblemished under wavering touches, fair coal-black hair trailing along the elegant nape, thick dark lashes framing closed eyes, long slender fingers that stretched out, forcefully relaxed. He reached out to touch skin, fingers resting on true flesh. He brought the head closer to himself, cradling it. It seemed precious somehow. Through the cloudy mist he felt a fiery sparkle well up deep inside him, something slithering to his ear and whispering: Protect him.

"He's not screaming, at least."

His head snapped up to the two intruders, eyes flashing with alarm and menace, blaring ablaze with warning. The man with the blond hair held the other's mouth tight, as if to prevent him from continuing. He ignored their sounds, watching their abrupt movements. Displeased, he snarled at them, baring rows of teeth, a raw gurgling noise rushing up his throat into the air; an instinctual need to demand authority pounding outwards from his chest. He cradled the unconscious body towards his person much tighter, his actions screaming: _Mine!_

The good doctor watched from the sidelines, intelligent eyes watching, never moving from where he stood. He had been there for quite a while now, but had barely dared to move an inch. He wanted to claim it to be fear and consideration that caused his actions thus far, but in all honesty it had been pure curiosity that urged him to remain still. A scientist's habit was indeed difficult to break, but it had certainly proved useful and wise to simply observe this time.

The stunned Captain and his talkative partner stood where they entered breathing, not daring to ruffle the awakened boy. The Captain's baby blue eyes flicked to the calm doctor by the side of the room, his glistening eyes panicked and tight with wary, as if asking: _What now?_Bruce Banner turned to the young lady on the bed, her locks of ruby fanning out beneath her slack body, chest rising and falling steadily; completely tranquilized and asleep. Calm. At least she was alright. He then turned to the opposite bed, eyes sparkling with a genuine curiosity at the bizarre sight presented to him.

Clint Barton, SHIELD agent and enemy of the God of Chaos was cradling said god close to himself in an almost animalistic fashion, showing extreme hostility. He beheld the same berserk gaze Natasha Romanoff, Host Two, had previously possessed. However, it was varied. Barton's gaze was of raw menace, but occasionally littered with dabs of confusion. He whipped his head from the doctor to the duo rapidly, as if unsure which one to defend against. Loki lay against the ferocious archer, eyes closed and lost to the waking world. How that had happened, Bruce Banner did not know, but he promised himself to find out later via the security cameras... providing he could even escape this situation. He had left the tranquilliser darts in the previous room where they had interrogated Romanoff and thus that was not a do-able option. At this time, knocking him out seemed like the most sensible course of action. However, the means required to achieve that goal actually possessed the risk of hurting someone and Bruce was afraid of that, had always been the most wary about others' safety.

"Lo-k..i..." Clint drawled, tasting the dry sandy flavour of the foreign use of his tongue. He bent down to carress the unconscious God of Chaos' coal-black silken locks, fingertips running through the smoothness. It was gentle and hesitant, the hand trembling as it went through the motion.

"Clint...?"

The brunette's feral eyes snapped up, a spine-chilling growl simultaneously filling the thin air. Steve shut up immediately, body stiffening in response. "Loki. Listen to me: calm down." Barton's clear voice cut through the musty silence, demanding attention. The awakened archer frowned, momentarily confused. Good. Bruce needed him confused for the moment.

"L... Loki..." he managed to gurgle out, hands travelling to his chest in an tittering urgency unheard of the outstanding spy. He heaved, breath unevenly travelling through his pathways as he clutched wildly at his chest. He seemed more agitated than before, eyes almost roiling in its sockets.

"Calm down..." Bruce repeated soothingly, attempting to tread his foot among troubled dark waters. The duo at the doorway paused, tensely watching the scene unfold. Tony knew now than ever that he really ought to keep his big mouth shut. Steve's breath was equally harsh, the awareness of the situation bringing his breathing up short. What should he do...?

Clint did not respond. He peered down at the unconscious body, one hand slithering back from his chest to the side of the pale body's face. His fingers trailed the along cheekbone's edge in an almost gentle caress. Up... down... up... down... The caressing motions did not stop, but Tony was glad the God of Chaos was peacefully unconscious, if not Clint might had have his both eyes clawed out. He could even picture it in his inner mind's eye: Loki would beat the crap out of the now-unstable archer with his bare hands, then proudly proclaim, "What audacity! You puny little humans try to even touch something so holy such as _me_and you will pay with your organs!" Or perhaps he had exaggerated, but the thought was so unexpectedly funny in such a tense situation that Tony could not help the bubbly snickering that escaped his parted lips.

Barton's gaze shot to the Man of Iron, eyes burrowing and rage skittering across his features.

_Tony!_Steve chided in his head, afraid to speak aloud. Tony caught the teacher-look on Spangles too late. A flurry of motion flung him to the adjacent wall, growls and animalistic sounds leaping up from the thing's- Barton's throat. Tony was pinned helplessly to the wall, Barton' mouth growling like a mental tiger in heat. Wait, that was the wrong expression, but Tony still thought it sounded achingly similar to 'extreme deranged', which was not so far off an assumption in the current situation.

"Wait wait wait!" Tony wailed, using the power of words where strength failed him. He flailed helplessly, painfully aware his feet were off the ground. For god's sake! The boy had just awakened from a damned coma and Tony could not even struggle out of his hold! The logic was just infuriating, if not panic-inducing. "Barton, Loki whatever! God you're so not lucid now. Could you just- stop growling in my face geez. Okay I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for laughing at you caressing your greatest enemy like a pretty preschooler in love with his best girl friend! It was weird, yes, but I'll stop with the noises that I realise kind of freak you out right about now-" the rambling trail of words flowed of Tony's mouth in a blind white panic. Especially since there was a possibility that Clint might just use his blunt (smelly) teeth to rip the flesh off his face.

"Tony shut it!" Steve shushed urgently, feet rooted to where he stood. His brain and pounding heart were both derailing at unbelievably high speeds and screaming at him to 'Move! Godammit!' but he knew better than to suddenly move and alert the uptight Clint even more than he was now.

"Loki, Loki. I need you to listen to me."

Clint's head whipped to where Bruce stood. The scientist had calmly placed his hands palm out in a placating manner, attempting to soothe. "Calm down. We are not going to hurt Loki."

Barton frowned, confusion starting up again. "H-Hurt Loki?"

"No no. We are not going to hurt anyone, alright? Calm down." The doctor was speaking in soft, soothing tones now, hands still palm out.

"Calm...? B...Bruce?"

A speedy relief washed into the scientist's eyes. There seemed to be a higher chance of recovering the old boy's identity now. "Yes. Me. Bruce. Remember?" The hold on Tony slackened considerably. Clint put him down, slowly walking towards the scientist. Tony almost sighed in relief as his feet made contact with the beautiful hard solid level non-air ground. Thank heavens for sweet sweet gravity.

"It's okay, see? No one's going to get hurt." Bruce continued as the other two mindfully kept their mouths shut. By now Clint had reached the doctor, standing right in front of where he was standing. He hesitantly trailed a hand out in mid air, as if wanting to make contact. His eyes were painfully confused and muddled, wanting to understand but failing any sort of comprehension whatsoever.

"W..Where?"

"Midguard. You're on Midguard. Or Earth, as we call it." Bruce hastily answered, trying his utmost to reassure the (current potentially dangerous) archer. Clint looked far off into the distance, hearing and ingesting. His eyes shone with a sheen of almost-understanding. He turned his gaze back to the scientist. "I've been banished? Again?"

Bruce was utterly confused by Clint now. Was he Loki? Or himself? Because as far as he remembered, Loki did not have the knack for calling him 'Bruce' as Clint had just done. Yet now he was talking about being banished...

"No, let me rephrase that. I've been banished, then briefly captured by the Avengers. Is that it?" Clint sudden eloquence deeply troubled everyone, especially since he was assuming the Loki persona instead of his original person. No one dared to answer Clint's open question. You did not lie to a 'God of Lies' and get away with it, even with a phony (deranged) one. A chilling silence hung in the air, as if present to confirm the Agent's rising suspicions. "I see. But I don't see how that explains the clone on my bed?"

A icy, gripping chill dragged its spindly claws down Tony's spine. Man, this was so screwed. "God. Stop talking like that. Jesus Christ, you're creeping me out."

Barton glared at Tony, eyes alighting with a sizzling annoyance. "Like I have made any comments on the way you speak, Man of Iron. Your speech doesn't flatter me much either, so keep your displeasure to yourself. It is inanely irritating."

Before Steve could stop Tony from responding, Tony- well, -responded. "Damn! You don't even curse anymore! What's wrong with your obsession with Loki! Come back, Clint. You're human, you're insanely god-like in archery, you hate Mr Mischief Crazy Ass for nuts and you have that hard-on for Romanoff whenever she wears that catsuit and you know it!" Despite the situation a mild blush made its way up Steve's neck and up his ears. He was not that _innocent _as everyone made him out to be, but he hated having to hear that... It was supposed to an embarrassing secret, wasn't it? Damn Tony and his inappropriate-ness!

The archer barked a short laugh, mildly throwing his head back as he grabbed his stomach. He now truly depicted a scene of an unstable mental person. "Are you blind, Tony Stark? Did the hit I gave you just now rattle too much of that brain of yours? Why would I be my own conveniently appointed minion all of a sudden? What on Earth are you talking about?"

Wild shock flashed through Tony's eyes.

"You said it! You said "What on Earth are you talking about"! This is a Midguard saying don't you see? You're not Loki, Clint. Shake it off! Loki kicks super ass but c'mon! Clint Barton, your super spy self ain't half bad either. Just let it dig into your head for a moment that you just might perhaps be Clint Barton and that the 'clone' on the damn bed is Loki! God, you know what, why don't you just look into a mirror? That'll solve every-"

"Stop lying. Stop lying- stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying-" soft whispers started trailing uncontrollably out of the archer's mouth akin to a volcano spewing out its contents; rapid and lethal. He had subconsciously started grabbing at his hair, pulling out the soft strands in frustration. He started crouching down, curling in on himself.

"Stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying-"

"Stop _talking_, Tony. Zip," Steve's voice was saturated with dripping concern as he subconsciously pulled an imaginary zipper across his mouth, willing Tony to do the same. Tony was mildly surprised. His eyes widened slightly in response. He was quite taken back by how (slightly) adorable the Captain seemed to look when he was all flustered and still wanted him to zip his mouth with an imaginary zip and throw it away. Still ever the child, that Captain was. Especially with his cheeks still partially suffused with a pinkish hue due to the previous comment Tony had made.

Okay, so not the time for unusual attractiveness vibes to come pouring out. Tony unwilling zipped his mouth with the invisible zip and pretended to swallow it. Oh wait, didn't that mean his mouth was still open? Oops...

Steve rolled his eyes at the motion, a rare thing he did since he considered it rude, but for the moment he could care less. He immediately neared the trembling Agent, attempting to do something. He was afraid to touch the crumpled form on the floor due to past experiences of Romanoff shuddering away from him. A brief glance at the scientist on the other side of the room told him otherwise. "At this rate he's going to start hyperventilating, Steve. We need to knock him out before he manages to bite his tongue."

A look of understanding flitted across the Captain's features as his head bobbed in response. Alright, he would be able to do this. For Clint. He swiftly grabbed Clint by the shoulders to unwrap the archer's skillfully maneuvered human ball. On the other side, Bruce firmly gripped Clint's feet.

"Stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying stop lying-" the flustered trail of words continued, distracting the archer as the two friends tugged at his limbs. Tony then moved closer to the restrained Clint. "Tony! Knock him out! Our hands are busy!" Steve rasped with effort, perspiration starting to coat his face as it did for Bruce as well.

"Erm... Where's the tranquilliser?" Tony briskly asked, looking around.

"In room. No time. Do it now." Bruce tugged harder, stopping the human ball shape to take on again. If they did not hit the proper part of he neck properly the boy might be irrevocably injured. However to hit the neck, they had to have it exposed in clear view for a good shot.

"What?!" Tony exclaimed, voice jittery and panicky, "I'm not going to ninja chop him! What if he dies?"

"Tony...!" Steve warned in an increasingly strained voice. Boy was Clint strong in this feral state.

Blood pounded rapidly through the tubes to his heart, sending skitters to the rest of his body. God! Okay, okay. Remember your lessons. He was supposed to hit the vulnerable part where the pulse was right? But oh my god where the hell was that again?! Ah hell, his hand would get there somehow.

Tony's fingers came plunging down against the fair nape, reaching closer to its target and almost making dangerous contact... when suddenly a light snap sounded from somewhere behind the trio and the archer fell unconscious. Tony's hands stopped just a hair's breadth away from the vital part of the neck, trembling with a shock from the sight of the slumped body. The two holding Barton's limbs looked astonished at Tony for a brief millisecond before letting go of the parts they were no longer desperately holding on and whipping their heads behind them to identify who they had already guessed in their heads to be. The two held back muffled gasps as Tony slowly turned to look around...

Loki stood, his face ashen with his hand stationary in mid air. He was standing quite far away from where the chaos was, but they could still see the deep astounding contrast between wild silky locks of night black and the deathly white parlour of his skin. He looked vulnerable, almost a little frail, which completely weirded Tony out. Loki slowly closed his eyes against the scrutinising gazes, further bringing out unbelievable length of those midnight-painted eyelashes on such unparalleled, unblemished skin. For a while there, he thought he understood perfectly why that bastard Afiel might be attracted to Loki. His delicateness was beautiful, almost like a doll in all its grandeur, colouring the stage with its unearthly beauty. He imagined Loki's doll image to go well with thick thorn roses blooming lethally, spreading its vines slithering around its prey's body as the crystal emerald depths of Loki's mesmerising eyes pulled, bewitched... until the prey was no more...

Tony felt a shivering tingle travel from his hands up his arms then all the way down to his groin area. Now _that_was interesting... He had not felt like that in a long time. Or was he just being particularly horny today? He shrugged, his thoughts hurtling at rainbow unicorn speed as they pummelled deep into his genius brain. It was almost a pain sometimes to be able to process so many thoughts at the same time. Not that he was complaining, though.

"Ugh, my head..." Loki's first words startled the trio even more. Tony almost whistled. Gods had headaches?

Loki's head was pounding with a newfound fervour he thought his currently muddled mind did not possess. He grabbed at it, eyes never opening since it snapped closed seconds ago. The world around him had been swirling and shaking like a terribly drawn picture. His poor unstable vision had addled his brain to new stabbing heights, inflicting agony directly to his pain reaction centers. He bent down, holding the side of the bed for support.

"Hey, you okay? Did you use to much finger-snapping magic or something?" Tony's voice rung out in the awkward silence following the God's words, more curious than concerned. Loki shook his head to the second question. Bad move. His head spun like a top on the loose, an agonised keening whimper reluctantly travelling up his throat and pouring out of his lips. Tony immediately assumed Loki has answered the first question with a 'no' and walked towards the God of Chaos to stable him. "Don't go all weak on me now Loki. Thanks for knocking Clint out for us but seriously, if you knew you were gonna faint because of that..."

"I'm not a weakling!" Loki managed to spit menacingly, despite rather taxingly, through gritted teeth, bringing forth another wave of pounding ache in his head. He grimaced, reluctantly allowing Tony to guide him to the bed to sit. "Well okay yeah chill. You heard what I said back there. I know you can kick butt so take a chill pill. Everything's a mess now so you just stay here like a good kiddo and we'll settle Clint first okay?"

Loki nodded, not really processing the soothing words. His breaths were starting to come out arduously as he lay back down on the bed. He had not used a lot of magic and the taxing toil that was dragging him down was very worrying, but right now he could barely move without an onslaught of beating drums and cymbals clangs in his head. He groaned as he tried to forcefully tumble back to a fitfully unconscious state.

Tony left his bedside quickly and helped the other two Avengers carry Clint to an isolated medical room. They had enough of Clint caressing Gods for the rest of their lives. Surely they did not need more drama-o-rama when he awoke again...?

"He in coma?" Tony asked casually as the three of them lifted the slump body with much care. Barton shrugged, "Don't know. We'll see."

Steve frowned. He hoped Clint Barton would finally had good dreams now, though he doubted it very much.

* * *

A/N: I... have no excuses this time. I'm just terribly sorry for the long absence. Forgive me? -puppy eyes- However this chapter is a little longer than all the previous ones, heh heh. Oh and please review? So that bunnies all over the world may be granted with christmas carrots? ;A;

-Anony

ninja-in-training


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